


Five Time Bucky Didn't Understand

by burbs, Wishdead



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Bucky Barnes Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, Identity Issues, M/M, POV Second Person, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, bucky is very emotional and frustrated, glorious amounts of hugging, gross crying and panic attacks, in which they are actually teenage girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2018667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burbs/pseuds/burbs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishdead/pseuds/Wishdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>+ the one time he did</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Time Bucky Didn't Understand

**Author's Note:**

> ugh this is my first fic ive written in a long time and first in this fandom and oh god im so embarrassed this is painfully cheesy. im gonna go crawl back underneath my rock and cry from embarrassment.

i

 

All you seem to be able remember recently is just how tired you are. There’s a plethora of other things you should be focused on or remembering or whatever. But your brain is numbing up and your three real limbs are like lead weights. Ironically the metal killing machine on your left seems just fine to do anything. It makes you feel less human but its also useful when Steve hands you something because apparently eating and drinking is some sort of necessity. You don’t care. It’s just all sort of… whatever.

The only times you do seem to move recently are when you wake up hearing shuddering breaths from the next room over. Something about it makes you wide awake- battle ready. Your body itches for some sort of weapon; but even if you didn’t have one you think it wouldn’t matter, because you would be able to defeat ‘it’ just with your fists and gritted teeth. You don’t know what ‘it’ is though.

You think that ‘it’ is Steve the first few times it happens. All of the sudden, apathy has slipped out from your reach, and you’re feeling and it’s horrible. Anger and fear and something else (concern?) rush in your blood, and you’re about to punch this strange man in the face before you realize then you’d be the one you’d have to hit. That you don’t understand at all. You stop yourself, and his fucking eyes are red. He’s pretending and you hate when he pretends and he smiles at you and asks if you had any bad dreams.

The anger peaks at that. He’s concerned about you, when he was the one shuddering. You bristle and don’t know how to get the words out, and he’s asking you questions and that you don’t want to or know how to answer. Conflicting feelings of violence and affection surge through you, and you are so damn confused, and you can’t stand how Steve makes you feel.

You shift on your feet with all the extra energy, before you let out a strangled scream. Steve looks alarmed and cautious, and you hate yourself and you just… kinda… jump him.

He’s tense underneath you for a moment, bracing himself for bodily harm; and you grumble and grit your teeth harder, and fist your hands in his shirt. You’re both halfway off Steve’s bed and Steve seems to doing all he can not to slip off, and then he’s tenser and then lets out a breath that’s fucking heartbreaking somehow, and you don’t understand any of it.

Your face is in the crook of his neck and you can feel your hearts beating together, and everything is suddenly better and much much worse. Your body is bursting with energy, yet you refuse to move. He wraps his arms around you so fucking gently, and you don’t think you can breathe.

And you don’t know what you’re doing and what you should do so you stand up with a huff. Steve loses his balance completely and hits his butt on the hardwood floors with a grimace.

“There you go.” You glare down at him as you puff out your chest. Mission complete. And you walk out of the room and leave him flabbergasted.

Some part of you feels amazingly proud and you almost like smiling when your body collapses and you hear Steve stifle a giggle from the next room.

Since then you spend most of your time exhausted and grumpy and barely moving right up until you hear or see or sense something fucking wrong with Steve and then you have a mission to fulfill that often comes with randomly raining hardcore affection on that stupid man.

 

ii

 

Apparently you’re depressed and have severe PTSD and need help and blahblah blah blah. Sam keeps talking to Steve about ways to help you and you really don’t care. You mean, yeah you hate waking up in the middle of night screaming and trying to kill things or going comatose for a few days or making Steve cry because you left and he was so sure you were going to leave him forever even though he had told you were free to do whatever you wanted and if you spent one more day immobile in that fucking apartment you were going to probably explode or self destruct. God why does Steve have to overreact to every little thing you do what is wrong with him (you pointedly don’t remember how he had left you alone for three days a few weeks ago when you had screamed at him for space and had cried like a little bitch when you he had).

Either way the Sam falcon guy keeps talking and Steve looks concerned and glazing over whenever Sam implies that Steve might need help too and you want to laugh at Sam because Steve hasn’t accepted help a day in his life and he isn’t about to now.

You don’t know how you know that. It must have something to do with Steve saying you grew up together. You don’t know if that’s true or not because you can’t remember shit of anything really besides maybe being covered in blood and hurting a whole lot. But somehow you know that Steve is a stubborn asshole that won’t ask for help like it’s some sort of law of the universe like gravity or some shit.

Sam starts getting more and more pointed and blunt about Steve needing help and that ‘not having anything that makes him happy’ is a bad thing and Steve is like doing backflips over rafters trying to focus the conversation on you and then he starts asking you stuff like do you feel like you’d be okay going to see a therapist and it’s okay if you don’t want to but it might help and getting all close and concern-y and it’s making you goddamn uncomfortable and you can see how exasperated Sam looks from across the table at the small cafe you guys decided to talk at (Sam had the same sentiment as you as needing to get out of the house once in a blue moon as you did). You can almost channel the eyeroll Sam has and his irritation resounds deep in your soul and you feel like you’ve met something like a clone of you for a second.

And so… you kinda just take Sam’s side on whatever the fuck because you feel the need to shit on Steve’s front door for being such a little brat all the time. God what a selfless shit. “But Steve don’t you need help?” You say it likes it’s a punch and Steve almost reacts to it like one, “I mean it’s not like I’m the only one here waking up in the middle of the night screaming?” You turn to Sam with an expression like ‘am i right or am i right’. Sam blanches and looks like he’s right about to kiss you. You feel like you would do the same if the situation was reversed.

Steve ears go red and you feel like doing a jig, “Bucky! I-I need don’t help, especially since right now you’re the one who-”

“I mean Sam look at those bags under his eyes! I can’t believe we let this slide for as long as we did!” Steve sputters and you resist and resist the urge to brace yourself for punishment. You’ve been told enough that you aren’t going to get punished for anything and it seems to be true so far and it would definitely ruin your fun if you let it show.

A small part of you realizes you’re having fun and you don’t know what to do with that. Except maybe continue, it feels amazing and you can’t bring yourself to stop. It’s addicting.

A sly grin crawls up Sam’s face and Steve is stuttering for a defense. You don’t point out to yourself that he’s probably so flustered because this is the most you’ve talked in the last few weeks. “I know Bucky! I feel downright ashamed that we’ve let Steve go through so much already! But you know Steve, he’s way more concerned with helping others than self preservation.” he sighs with a dramatic flair. Steve goes redder and you want to hug Sam like you’ve grown to do so with Steve but for entirely different reasons.

“Guys! We’re talking about Bucky’s well-being here not how I’m supposedly damaged or something!” Steve bursts out trying and failing to take back control of the conversation.

“Supposedly he says” you mumble to Sam.

“Supposedly.” Sam emphasizes.

“Guys!” Steve all but throws his arms up in frustration and you feel like laughing and it’s amazing but you feel like you can’t at the same time and that’s horrible and it’s fun and, “Bucky, would it be okay with you if you started seeing someone about all of this?” Steve looks at you all serious and begging and you almost want to stop but then it comes to you.

You look pensive for a moment, actually seriously thinking about everything they were talking about and how you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to but this might help and how they would only go to someone trusted and you didn’t need to worry and you think about how… alive you feel? How this feeling is coming from sassing Steve and how much more of this could come from continuing this and how much if this could help you of all people you would damn well help Steve and you wouldn’t have to wake up in the middle of the night to Steve shuddering like he’s freezing and maybe Steve would smile for real like he laughed that first night you had hugged him and…

“...I’ll get help,” You barely whisper, not looking at anything really and trying to mask your extreme discomfort, Steve and Sam look like they are about to pull fucking confetti out of their asses before you continue, “but only if you get help too.” You look up at Steve and he looks like he got sucker punched from his mother and you see Sam from the corner of your eyes and he literally does throw confetti out of no where.

Before Steve can agree you know you’ve won and Sam is screaming and calling Natasha and demanding his money because he totally won. Steve pulls his head back and lets out a strangled sound as you can see his blush reaching down his neck and you can swear you can hear him mumbling about something about never being able to say no to this asshole or something.

You go back to eating the pancake you had abandoned once this whole conversation began.

 

iii

 

You’re not okay. Not okay at all. Everything is spinning out of control and you can’t make a cohesive thought and it’s-

It’s really stupid. But you’re so angry and sad and it hurts and you’re dizzy and you really try to remember what the doctor/therapist??? whatever had told you to do when you were freaking out like this but-

Anger boils in your stomach and you want to throw up on someone and maybe rip out their spine along the way maybe and hide and hurt yourself and cry a whole lot because-

Your face feels hot and toes curl and you can’t move from the doorway because then they would notice you and you don’t want them to notice you because then they would see you and try and help you and you’re pretty positive you might kill everyone in this room right now and you’re pretty positive at this point at least according to everyone else that killing things isn’t a healthy way to deal with emotions even though they feel like they are crawling up your throat and feel like someone set off a bomb in your chest-

That red-haired bitch is sitting in your spot on the couch. The place where your butt fits perfectly.

She’s leaning over the armrest where you lean over the armrest and is smiling slyly at your Steve and is Steve is flustered by her and whatever she’s talking about.

“That was definitely not my first kiss since-” Steve stutters and his face is red and you really like when Steve is all red in the face but you hate it right now and you don’t know why.

“Sure Steve, but all I’m trying to say is that you need to get out more. Dating isn’t going to kill anyone and might make you a little happy.” She grins like a fox as Steve frowns harder and looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. You want to be anywhere but here. Preferably with Steve. Preferably without Natasha doing things or talking or being there trying to- “Come on, just give it a chance, just because I stole your first 21st century kiss doesn’t mean I have to make an honest man out of you. Go kiss someone and maybe get that chip off you shoul- ”

All of a sudden you’re standing in front of Steve gripping his collar and kissing him like a headbutt. Your teeth slam into his and you taste a little blood before you drop Steve back onto his stupid armchair and you turn to Natasha.

“There! He’s been kissed or what the fuck ever now drop it!” you kick the coffee table as you storm out of the room and you hear Steve make a weak ‘what?’ and Natasha is on her phone going all ‘damnit sam!’ but you really don’t care.

You can’t bring yourself to care because you cut your lip on Steve’s teeth and your chest is beating wildly and you feel like you’ve done something extremely stupid on impulse but like the hugs and the teasing you can’t regret and it’s something important that you don’t want to let go of.

You grin when you slam your door shut. You kissed Steve fucking Rogers.

You don’t get why that is such an accomplishment but you feel like you won the lottery.

 

iv

 

Tony Stark is even more annoying than-

Well you don’t know how to continue that train of thought. It’s crashed- burned- swerved into a blank space in your head that’s always covered in blood and-

You’re not breathing and you don’t understand why and Tony keeps chatting and you want to hate him but in this second all you hate is yourself and you just don’t understand.

You grab onto the hem of Steve’s shirt as Stark continues to look at your damn arm and pretend not to notice how you can feel the concern radiating off of Steve. You had promised explicitly earlier that you would be fine with all this and even laughed at Steve’s protectiveness (which had been awesome because Steve’s face had just… done that thing) and had gone to Stark/Avengers tower or whatever the hell it was so they could make sure his arm wasn’t about to do… whatever they thought his arm was going to do.

Tony kept making jokes about Steve being sleeping beauty and calling you stuff like tinman. And really a part of you that you really don’t understand would have found it amusing and overall it isn’t too much more of anything other than an annoyance and this babbling man that Steve seemed to trust and was so familiar to-

Nothing is familiar to you. You don’t understand.

He’s touching your arm and-

You’re holding unto Steve and-

That A.I. is talking about an elevated heart rate and-

You snap up without thinking- ripping your arm from Starks grip and have hands all over Steve. Checking his pulse, breathing, temperature, and-

It’s normal.

You can’t see straight.

Steve is okay.

The room spins as Stark and Steve rush to steady you and they are talking but you can barely hear them because-

You realize that you’re hyperventilating and they are telling you to breathe.

You look around the room for exits, you don’t want to leave but you need to escape- escape- escape from? There’s nothing wrong here what do you need to escape from?

You try to breathe, you really do but all that does is make the hyperventilating worse. Your eyes burn as you start to wheeze and something is so completely wrong and ironic about all of this but you just-

Steve’s hand is on your back and it burns and it’s solid and your feet are underneath you-

You look up at him and that’s wrong-

Stark is babbling about panic attacks and that’s wrong-

Your left arm is spasming and metal and that’s wrong-

You’re heart is beating against your chest and that’s oh so wrong.

And Steve’s arms are around you and it’s gentle again and soft again and your face is in his chest and his hands are on your back pushing in rhythm with his breathing- forcing you to breathe with him-

You don’t notice that you had been crying until you feel the wetness on Steve’s shirt.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He murmurs into your hair and you’re not in your head anymore.

You’re right there- your body is real- Steve is real- you let shuddering breath after shuddering breath- Steve is warm- you breathe- your cheeks get wetter- you breathe- you’re real- breathe.

You sniff and wrap your right hand around Steve and hold onto the hem of his shirt with your left.

You laugh suddenly.

You really don’t understand.

You really don’t remember anything really.

But everything is so fucking real all of a sudden and it’s hilarious.

 

v

 

Steve really wants you to remember.

You really don’t care.

You’re confused all of the time but things are becoming clearer by the day. You’re Bucky Barnes or something and you used to be his best friend nearly 70 years ago before you became a killing machine or something.

It’s all very important facts with very real consequences and shit. You don’t really remember any of it and sometimes you wonder if they are making it up or something because all of this is straight out of some sci-fi novel you read when you were like-

Whatever, it just doesn’t sound plausible despite every time you know something about Steve or every time you have to stop yourself from killing things. There’s too much evidence for you to not actually believe this whole trainwreck.

But Steve wants you to remember so bad.

And that makes you kinda really not want to.

Remembering isn’t probably going to change much and Steve is acting like he’d like you better if you remembered and you just want him to stop and move on because fuck you is why.

You told your therapist that and he told you that this was ‘petty behaviour’ and wouldn’t help in your recovery or blah blah blah.

You doesn’t understand why this is all a big deal or why Steve looks sad when he looks at you because goddamnit you’re right here and Steve is looking at you like you’re a million miles away and it makes you feel not real.

At these moments instead of flying into a rage at Steve like you initially had done you’ve started to make faces at that stupid punk. Instead of looking like he’s seeing someone else he see’s you as you make any silly face you can come up with. It’s become one of your favorite things because you end up making him laugh most times and every time you startle him out of funk and he’s looking at you.

You’re the one that’s real right now- not some guy he remember’s from almost a century ago. Why does Steve always have so much trouble living in the moment nowadays? He used to be so implu-

Steve is having a serious conversation with someone or the other you don’t really care because you are so damn close to actually licking your nose. Just a little farther and- Steve hangs up- you can almost feel the wetness on your nose- Steve turns around- you lick your fucking nose the exact second Steve sees you and you’ve never seen him burst into hysterical laughter like that before (except for that one time when-) and you’re so damn proud of yourself until-

“I swear to god Bucky you’re still the same even after all-” Steve wipes some mirthful tears from his eyes and- and- and-

Something inside you burns and you recoil.

“I’m not-!” You wheeze- his eyes widen- “The same!” you’re both frozen.

You bring up your arms to your face, the cool metal comforting and nauseating, and grit your teeth. “I’m me.” You let out a shuddering breath, “Stop- s-stop comparing me to someone I don’t even know!”

Steve doesn’t move.

“I don’t remember him and I don’t remember you and I don’t understand why it’s so important that you look and think of him when y-you’re looking at me. And it’s not fair!”

“Buck-”

“No! You’re not allowed to call me that anymore!” You whip your hands to your side. You feel childish and petty but- “Not when you’re talking some stupid ghost from forever ago and I’m standing right here and you-!”

Steve takes a step forward and you take several back.

“Why the fuck can’t you understand that I’m the one standing here and I don’t remember you- I’ve only known you for a few months and for some stupid goddamn reason you’re my whole world!”

You stop breathing.

It’s like the hug when he’s shuddering.

It’s like the teasing and fun.

It’s like the kiss and the split lip.

It’s like seeing Steve first and realizing you’re falling apart later.

It’s like making Steve laugh and trying your best to make him look at you.

It’s like that night you’re leaving for the goddamn military and Steve is fucking tiny in your arms and you’re hugging him goodbye and you can barely stand it because he’s your whole world.

It’s like beating the shit out of Kenneth Miller when you were twelve after he broke Steve’s hand and was about to break more than that and you couldn’t let that happen because Steve was your world.

It was like being in those goddamn trenches and people dying around you and you’re so fucking glad Steve isn’t there because he’s your whole goddamn world.

It’s like working extra shifts at the docks because Steve is sick and last winter both of you were sure it would be Steve’s last and you can’t let that happen because he’s your whole world.

It’s like kissing Lindy McEvans because you can’t kiss Steve because he’s your whole world and you can’t lose him.

It’s like lying in that horrible horrible chair and just allowing yourself to die because Steve is dead and he’s your whole world.

Steve looks like he’s about to cry or smile or get angry but you can’t focus on that because you are so goddamn angry with yourself.

“Fuck!” You throw your hands up into the air. Steve startles and you realize he must’ve been about to say something and there must have been a mood or something but, “Fucking piece of shit goddamn asslicking-!”

“Bu-” Steve stops himself, “What’s wrong?” Steve is all concerned and shit and damnit damnit-

“Of all the fucking times I could’ve remembered shit!” You start pacing back and forth, “Why! Why, why, why did i have to remember shit right fucking now!”

Steve looks like he’s bewildered and excited and scared and- “What do you remember Bucky...?”

You turn to him and all of a sudden your way in his personal space, “Enough to be very angry and very embarrassed about fucking everything!” You seethe, “Especially since I didn’t even want to fucking remember!”

You’re throwing a tantrum at this point and Steve is really close and you remember a few weeks ago when you had just fucking kissed him and-

You’re storming out of the room before you do anything stupid.

You remember and you still don’t understand anything except you do and it’s stupid and you’re stupid and holy fucking shit you told Steve he was your whole world.

You try really hard to ignore how when you plop onto your bed and scream into your pillow how you’re acting like a teenage girl (You remember Becky doing the same goddamn thing after she got into a fight and-).

 

+1

 

If there was one thing you knew about Steve it would have to be how incapable he was when it came to romance. The man was inept the second a girl came near him and froze up. And most times if you were near he would fucking try to hide behind you and you could feel his chest beating rapidly and his sweaty palms and the part of you that you kind of hate liked introducing Steve to girls just for his reaction. But this also told you how safe Steve felt around you and the second you realized that you might wanna maybe kiss him or something and maybe do more you realized how that would ruin everything and you wouldn’t be someone safe anymore. Steve got better and more confident but he also always has bigger dreams and never settles. He’s always waiting for the ‘right partner’ and some crap.

Steve is shy at romance at best. At worst it’s probably one of his worst fears and he would sooner jump off an airplane without a parachute then ask someone out.

But Steve is also fair and cares about others more than he cares about himself. He wouldn’t lie or keep someone hanging if he didn’t like them. He would reject them and make them feel like a million bucks in the process somehow. Steve was weird like that.

So you really have no idea why Steve hasn’t rejected you yet. You’ve kissed Steve, been all touchy feely with him, and basically told him you loved him and yet here you are after almost a week of hiding in your room and Steve still hasn’t rejected you or done… well much of anything instead of making sure you’re eating and not dying in your room.

And really, it’s driving you crazy. You were really angry and embarrassed to start out with, then you got really sad because fucking heartbreak when you realized how fucked you were in this situation, and now you’re about to explode with frustration.

For a brief second you think maybe Steve hadn’t understood any of what happened and you had to laugh at yourself for that one. Steve is by no means dumb and you think you were pretty damn stupidly grossly obvious and you were definitely fucked. You dwell on how maybe Steve wasn’t rejecting you because he cared too much about your recovery. You know for a fact that he’s been putting you getting better and not homicidal and crazy on the top of his priority list and even though he feels uncomfortable with his friend wanting him he’s sacrificing himself for your well-being and-

You get out of bed so fast that you’re dizzy and the anger and aggression that’s been surging through you during this whole process has hit an all time high.

That totally sounds like something stupid Steve would do and you are about to kill him. Except not actual kill- the murderous intent you felt whenever Steve ran into a fight he couldn’t win as opposed to the coldness of actually taking a life.

Steve is in the kitchen when you find him and he’s still in his tacky uniform that you used to love to make fun of and he’s kinda beaten up and you realize he just got back from a mission and you hadn’t even noticed because you were too caught up in your pity party to notice or actually think or care about Steve and now you’re even angrier.

“Hey.” Your voice is louder and firmer than you had intended Steve looks up and he’s smiling that hurt smile and you really have hurt him and you can’t let this go on any further. “You need to reject me.” You want to grab the words after the came out because you don’t want to be rejected but it’s too late and you care more about Steve than you do about some stupid crush that’s lasted way longer than any emotion has any right to last.

The smile slips away and Steve just looks confused, “What?”

You let out a frustrated noise, you really didn’t want to repeat yourself in this debauchery, “You. Reject me. Because I’m in love with you. Break my heart.” You grit out bluntness and pride overriding emotion in your voice. Steve hasn’t moved a muscle. “Please.” desperation bleeds out and you feel even more pathetic than you did earlier.

Steve still hasn’t moved.

You feel like throwing up.

The tension in the room builds to unbearable heights.

Steve makes an aborted breath.

You can’t take it, “I mean, come on Steve. You can’t do this self-sacrifice bullshit all the time. It’s not like i’m going to break if you’re not interested in me it’s not like I haven’t already known that since forfuckingever.” You take in a shuddering breath, “I care more about being your friend and being there with you than hurting you with these stupid fucking feelings and I really just need you to make them stop.” A part of you knows they will never stop but if you can convince Steve that it’s better for you in the long run to get rejected maybe he’ll stop hurting himself by taking care of you more than himself, “I know these feelings are freaking you out and you shouldn’t not reject me because you’re scared of my feelings getting hurt because that pisses me off and-”

“You’re in love with me?” Steve blurts out and holy shit your everything is about to explode.

He really hadn’t put it together yet. And you had just gone and told him everything.

Fuck.

“Ye-no-uh maybe?” You get out before Steve is standing right in front of you and you feel tiny and a part of you feels weird that Steve is bigger and another part is perfectly okay because Steve always felt bigger than he was.

“You’re in love with me?” He asks again and you can’t talk so you numbly nod because Steve is too close and he’s asking you something you swore would never see the light of day and Steve smells like Steve and- Steve starts laughing, “Holy crap Buck! I thought you had decided you hated me or something!”

You sputter, “Wh-why the fuck would I ever hate you?”

Steve rests your foreheads together and holy crap, “Well you said you remembered stuff and how angry and embarrassed it made you felt and then ignored me for a week.” Steve’s smile burns and it’s only a few inches away and wow.

“I-I wasn’t-” you stutter and you’re dizzy and- “You should still probably reject me-”

“Why”

“Because if you don’t I might kiss you again and it’ll be really gross and you’ll hate me forever and I’m not a safe person for you to be around-”

Steve kisses you before you have the chance. His face hits your face with just as ‘duh’ of ‘around’.

To say you’re confused is an understatement. You feel stupid for missing all of this. Steve is smiling against your mouth and it’s actually a pretty crappy kiss but its much better than the headbutt of one you’d stolen earlier.

It’s actually probably the best thing ever because Steve is kissing you. You’re pretty sure you’re about to die or something even though it feels nothing like the other times you died and-

You honestly cannot handle this overload.

It’s too much and Steve moves his lips and the next thing you know you’re crying. You’re so damn terrified and happy and relieved. Your lips quiver and shake against his and you’re ruining this but you can’t stop the shaking and Steve tries to back away like he’s burned you but you don’t let him, you hold unto him and let him ground you where you are.  

You bite the inside of your mouth as you pull away from his face and bury yours in his neck. You’re breathing hard and Steve is shivering and his hand slides up to your back, resting between your shoulder blades. He smells like sweat and iron and blood and fire. His mission must of been a hard one.

“It wasn’t really gross.” He mumbles into your hair. He takes in a shuddering steadying breath, “It would never be gross kissing you Bucky.”

You accidentally release a sob. You hold unto Steve tighter as if it would retract the sound. “It’s not fair.” you say.

Steve lets out a noncommittal sound- you can’t tell if he’s agreeing or not but you just go on, “It’s not fair, I love you so damn much even when I don’t even know who I am or who you are. That’s just too damn much what is wrong with me?”

Steve buries his head in your hair and wow this is literally taking your breath away this is the most cheesy moment of your life, “Stop,” he almost whines and your heart is in your throat, “You don’t understand how much I’ve wanted you to love me and this- this is too damn much.” His breath hitches and it moves your chest with his.

You muster all the courage you can even though you feel like you’re awkward and fourteen again and realizing for the first time that Steve is so damn irreplaceable it’s terrifying and you ignore him for a week because you’re so damn scared of how much power he has over you.

“Do you love me?”

Steve lets out a laugh and its better than any laugh you’ve torn out of him so far because it’s just so- so goddamn Steve.

“I don’t think i remember a time when I didn’t love you.” Your head snaps up and his eyes are shining and alive and you feel alive- “It’s stupid crazy how much my life surrounds around you and I don’t want to ever make it stop-” His forehead is on yours, “Yes damnit, Bucky I love you you giant jerk!”

The laugh comes out of you before you can even think and the sure weight of the times you’ve insulted each like this force the words out, “Fucking punk.”

You’re pretty sure your heart is about to burst and everything is fucking crazy but you pull away from Steve and hold him at arms length. “Goddamnit Steve you’re a mess, lets go get you cleaned up.” You grab his hand and drag him to the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> annndddd if you haven't thrown up from the sheer amount of fluff this is here's a lil something i drew to tip you over: http://burbiart.tumblr.com/post/92801080705/i-only-draw-good-stuff-when-im-supposed-to-be


End file.
